


Under the Skin

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Apprentice Prompto, Blatant Flirting, Client Gladio, Dirty Talk, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Look at all this porn good lord, M/M, Master Cor, Nipple Piercings, Now with REAL SMUT, Rough Sex, Still manages to be fluffy I think, Tattoo Studio AU, Tongue Piercings, Updated to explicit rating, band au, it's actually a, lololol, side Ignoct, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-04-17 09:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14185650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Gladio's been getting work done at theCrownsguard Piercings and Tattoo Studiofor months now, when out of the blue a cute, blond receptionist shows up to greet him at the door. Suddenly, he's not sure if he's more excited for his bimonthly ink sessions, or to see Prompto every time he goes.





	1. Stuck

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Gladio!! This was meant to be finished in time for his big day, but uuuhhhhhh I started way too late and WHOOPS. 
> 
> Cheesy fluffy flirting ensues. Part two will probably be smutty, who knows at this point lollll.

 

Tattoos had always been a  _ thing  _ in his family. His father had tons of them - most noticeably the sharp, curving feathers of a hawk that lined his arms and chest; his mother sported an elegant  _ irezumi  _ of a coeurl down her back. Even in his line of work, ink was simply considered part of the “look,” so much so that nearly everyone he knew in the industry (Noct and Iggy included) had  _ something _ done. 

It was only natural, then, that by the time he turned twenty Gladio had already picked out a design for a tattoo of his own: a dramatic eagle piece, wings spread over the planes of his back and shoulders, its beak open in a fierce display across his chest. 

The tattoo was ambitious. It would take at least a year to complete, and there was only one place Gladio trusted to get the job done right - the Crownsguard Tattoo and Piercing Studio. Run by the legendary Cor Leonis (nicknamed “the Immortal” for his long-running stint as owner, proprietor, and Head Artist), the shop had a reputation as not only the best tattoo shop in Insomnia, but in all of Lucis, as well. They’d even been featured on a pseudo-reality TV series -  _ Crown City Ink _ \- until Cor had punched out a cameraman in live feed for harassing a client. Of course, that had only skyrocketed the shop’s popularity, and there were now month-long waiting lists just to get an appointment with the Immortal himself. 

Luckily for Gladio, Cor was a long-time family friend of the Amicitias. One word from Clarus and he was able to book a consultation that very week, and they had the exact design hashed out by the end of the month. He was scheduled to go “under the needle” for the first time that summer, then every two weeks after that for the next ten months until his tattoo was complete. 

He, more than anyone else, was absolutely certain it would be well worth the wait. 

* * *

The bell above the front door rang a familiar tune as Gladio stepped into the salon that Friday. It was early fall; the afternoon breeze was cool, a welcome change from the lingering heat of summer, and it followed him into the lobby and right up to the front desk. The clock told him he’d arrived a few minutes early for his appointment after all. No small wonder; the jog after practice had been energizing, and he’d managed to hit all the right lights on his way downtown. While the good time he’d made meant Cor was likely still with another client, he also didn’t mind a little wait.

So rather than ring the service bell on the desk, he grabbed a magazine off the rack and took a seat on the worn leather couch instead. Propped one foot up on his other knee (bare below his running shorts) and flipped open the magazine to an article about the history of various skin inks and their pigments. Gladio found the story surprisingly engrossing - especially the section about how cactuar blossoms had once been used in ancient cultures - and had completely lost track of the minutes by the time a rustle of the curtain behind the desk announced someone’s arrival. 

Expecting to see Cor - or at the least Monica, his impeccable assistant - Gladio poked his head out over the top of the magazine he’d been reading. 

And did a double-take. 

The young man at the counter was someone he’d never seen before, of that he was certain. There was no way he could’ve forgotten such a bright, yellow halo of hair, or the soft blue eyes of the face it framed. From the side, it was easy to see the multitude of piercings that lined one ear, as well as the silver ring hooped around the sharp line of his eyebrow. He was  _ attractive _ , Gladio found himself thinking, and as he still seemed oblivious to the gaze traveling over him, Gladio took his time to drink in the sight. 

At least, that was, until the pages of the magazine in his hands drooped forward, and the sudden crinkling sound had the young man whirling around in surprise. 

“O-oh! Dude, sorry, I didn’t even--!” he started in an airy voice, fumbling quickly for the appointment schedule clipped to the wall next to the desk. “A-are you waiting for someone?” 

Gladio recovered his composure much more quickly. “I’m Cor’s three o’clock. Amicitia, name should be on the list.” 

Blue eyes scanned the clipboard, then Gladio himself. “Oh, yeah, cool. He’s told me about you. You’re getting the back piece, right? The bird?” When the blond talked, there was a flash of silver between his perfect teeth - a tongue piercing. 

Gladio swallowed. 

“Uh, yeah. It’s an eagle, actually, not a big deal.” A quick glance at the clock told him it was only two fifty. Cor would be still prepping his station; he had time. “So, are you new here? Never seen you around before.” 

“Me? Yep, I started last week. Still can’t figure out how  _ I  _ managed to land a job at a kick-ass place like this,” the kid laughed, snorting just enough to crack Gladio’s lips in a smile. “Anyway, I’m Prompto. Prompto Argentum. I’m sure we’ll be working together a lot, Mr. Amicitia.” 

“Just Gladio is fine,” he said, and grinned as he offered a hand for Prompto to shake. “And I hope so.” 

There was a pause. Prompto smiled and tapped his fingers on the clipboard. Glanced down at the desk and then flicked his big, blue eyes up at Gladio again from under a few strands of rogue, blond locks. “I’ll go get Mr. Leonis. Just a sec, okay?” 

Before Gladio could blink, Prompto was disappearing behind the employee curtain again. In his absence, Gladio shifted awkwardly (his running shorts were suddenly pulling uncomfortably tight between his thighs) and tried to take his mind off the cute receptionist with a round of King’s Knight on his phone. The game wasn’t exactly his thing, but Noct and Iggy played, and somehow he’d gotten roped in along the way. If nothing else, it helped him kill the next five minutes while he paced the length of the front desk and waited to be called back. 

He was almost disappointed when Cor’s decidedly not-blond heard appeared around the curtain. “Gladio, you’re up. Come on back.” 

Nothing about the routine was any different than usual. Gladio removed his shirt and stretched out on the table Cor had prepared for him, getting comfortable while he listened to the telltale buzzing of the needle gun coming to life at his back. Cor talked him quickly through the plan for the session, and then he fell silent in concentration as he set to task. 

The needle hit his skin. Pain, faint but constant, began to buzz through him in time with the gun’s motor, tolerable yet distracting. During a usual session, which could last up to two hours, Gladio kept his mind occupied with the variety of posters, signs, drawings, and labels that lined the walls and boxes of Cor’s booth. But that day, he found his gaze drawn elsewhere - to the sight of blond hair bouncing as Prompto flitted about the shop. 

Now that Gladio got a good look at him - and really, he  _ looked _ \- he could see that piercings weren’t the kid’s only specialty. A hint of a sleeve poked out from beneath his t-shirt, running down almost to his elbow on the right arm.  _ Interesting _ . Prompto looked to be seventeen, maybe eighteen at most (Gladio prayed he was the latter), but that tattoo would have taken months to complete. Had he gotten it done at Cor’s shop, or somewhere else? Was it finished, or did he plan to get more work done on it? And, most importantly, did he have ink  _ anywhere else  _ on that tight body of his? 

A sudden pain near his shoulder blade had him jolting back to the moment. 

“ _ Keep still _ .” Cor’s hand was on his arm, heavy and unyielding, as the buzzing came to a halt. “A little tickle and you’re jumping off my table? Your father raised you better than that.”

“Uh, sorry, sir.” Cheeks flushing, Gladio settled back down onto the cushions and fixed his gaze to the ground in an attempt to avoid distractions. But instead of the sound of the needle started back up, he heard Cor  _ tsk  _ instead. 

“That one went too deep. Don’t move.  _ Argentum!” _

A cheery reply from across the shop. “Yep!” 

“Towels!” 

“Comin’ right up!”

And indeed, only a few heartbeats later and Prompto was rounding the corner, a roll of paper towels tucked under one arm. He smiled when he saw Gladio on the table, then let his gaze drag over the rest of him as his throat bobbed noticeably. At a stern glance from Cor, he disappeared from Gladio’s field of peripheral vision, only to reemerge a moment later with several of the towels strained an inky red. 

Cor slapped Gladio on the shoulder he hadn’t spent the last half hour drilling into. “Change of plans. Let’s switch to your forearm. We’ll work our way back up while that heals.” He helped Gladio to shift on the table until his arm was propped comfortably on the edge. The needle buzzed back to life, but to Gladio’s relief, Prompto stuck around close this time. Sometimes wiping at his tender skin with a cloth, sometimes casting him sympathetic smiles from where he stood, at the ready, next to his boss. He seemed caught between watching Cor work - and rightly so; his was truly an amazing feat of artistry - and letting his eyes roam over the planes and muscles of Gladio’s bare back. 

“Whaddya think?” 

Pale cheeks (covered, Gladio noticed, in a peppering of dark freckles) flushed. “H-hm?”

“The tat. How does it look?” Had Gladio craned his neck in that moment, he would have seen Cor accomplish an eye roll that would have made even Ignis proud. 

Prompto, however, seemed just as oblivious, and smiled in return. “Oh. Yeah, no, it looks awesome! It, uh, it really suits your…. Y’know. The whole ‘macho’ thing.” 

A laugh, which in turn earned Gladio a second swat. “Thanks, I think. What about yours? Going for a full sleeve?” He gestured with his chin to the ink on Prompto’s right arm. Though he couldn’t make out the details from that distance, he was hoping the blond would be eager to show it off. 

Apparently, he was. “Yeah, that’s the plan. It’s a tribute to some of my favorite video games,” he explained as he leaned in to give Gladio a better look. Closer up, it was easier to make out the intricate collage of colors, logos, and pixelated characters as they weaved their way up under his shirt. “Actually, I guess it’s pretty geeky, huh? Nowhere near as cool as yours.” 

“No, it’s great,” Gladio smiled, following the lines of ink back up to meet Prompto’s bright-eyed gaze. “You gotta get what you love, otherwise what’s the point?”

Freckled cheeks darkened another shade of red. “Y-yeah. Thanks.”

“Besides, one of my friends is a gamer. I play a little myself, too.” 

“No way! Really?” 

“Sure.” 

Excited, Prompto’s lips broke out into the most genuine smile Gladio had ever had the pleasure of seeing in his life. “Wow! What are you into? I play JusMon and Assassin’s Creed, plus a lot of FPS stuff - y’know, shooters - but like, not online ‘cause I’m better at stealth, y’know? Teams just slow me down, and honestly half the players are, like, twelve-year-olds anyway, so -- “

“ _ Argentum. _ ” 

“Y-yes! Sir!” 

Cor had stopped inking Gladio’s skin, and was instead rubbing his temple with the hand not holding the needle gun. “Go check the front. I thought I heard the bell.”

“Y-yeah, sure.” A fleeting, yet apologetic, smile in Gladio’s direction, then he was running off to follow orders before he risked talking his way out of a job. In his wake, the stark silence made the last half hour of Gladio’s session almost unbearable. 

Monica was back at her post at the front desk when he finished up that evening. She took his card as usual, and booked him for the same time the Friday after next. Somehow, he managed to refrain from asking about Prompto - where he’d gone and if he’d be there when he came for his next appointment - and instead occupied himself with another few games of King’s Knight on the bus ride back uptown. 

After all, he might as well work on getting better at it, in case he ever needed to impress someone in a match. 

* * *

Prompto was, in fact, there for his next appointment. And the one after that, and the one after that, until like clockwork Gladio could walk into the front of the  _ Crownguard _ and see the blond practically bouncing on his heels to greet him.

It came as a surprise, then, when he first learned that Prompto, who he’d suspected was an assistant or receptionist like Monica, had actually been brought on as Cor’s blossoming apprentice. He was learning the trade, observing the master at work while practicing with smaller pieces of his own here and there. On Gladio’s next visit, Prompto even showed him a notebook of his sketches - everything from abstract designs to life-like animals, all of which were crafted with impressive skill. 

“ _ Six _ , where’d you learn to draw like that, Prom?” The nickname had developed without either of them noticing, and had stuck just as naturally. The blond laughed, light and easy. Wrapped another layer of plastic around Gladio’s freshly-inked forearm as he answered with a shrug. 

“Just practice, I guess. You, um, really like them?” 

“Yeah, I do.” Flashing a smile, Gladio closed the notebook and handed it back over, letting his gaze linger only briefly on the fingers that reached out to claim it. “You got talent. No wonder Cor picked you.” If he noticed the deep red that tinted freckled cheeks all the way down to Prompto’s neck, he was tactful enough not to mention it. “Think you could do a piece for me someday?” 

Blue eyes widened. “What, like, really?”

“Sure. If, y’know, you think I’d make a worthy enough canvas.”

Prompto’s mouth dropped open. Snapped shut again. Fell open as if he were going to dignify that with some kind of response other than a high-pitched whine, when the moment was interrupted by none other than Cor himself, come to shoo them away from his work station. They moved instead to the front desk, where Gladio paid and said his goodbyes for another two weeks - but not without Prompto’s promise to play around with a few designs just for him.

* * *

If Gladio had thought getting the outline of his tattoo done was a pain, then laying motionless on the table for hours while Cor filled in minute details of each and every feather was absolutely nerve-wracking. His only saving grace was, unsurprisingly, Prompto, who sat across from him during each session and kept him company with smiles and seemingly endless topics of conversation.

Cor, defeated, had taken to wearing earbuds while he worked. 

On one chilly Friday afternoon, after Gladio had stripped off his shirt and settled in for another voluntary session of teeth-rattling pain, he found himself even less able to take his eyes off of Prompto than usual. The blond was wearing a loose, sleeveless band tee, one that showed off his arms and hung temptingly off his collarbones (which, Gladio couldn’t help but notice, were also covered in freckles). His hair was down that day, hanging in thick curtains around his face, and his bright, blue eyes were framed behind a pair of lenses Gladio had never seen him wear before. 

Awkwardly, Prompto laughed when he noticed the look he was getting from the table. “I was up late with a project for a class,” he explained, tapping the side of his glasses. Gladio had already pieced enough together over the weeks to gather that the kid was taking a photography night course at a local community college. “It was either rush to campus before work, or flunk out so I could gel my hair. Honestly, it was a tough choice.” 

“Heh. You look good, though.”

Another laugh, more embarrassed this time. “I look like a  _ nerd. _ ”

“Well. I guess I think nerds are hot.” 

This time, Prompto fell uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes, so round and blue behind their frames, studied Gladio for a long moment, while he chewed his bottom lip in lieu of actual words. There was something, a tension or a question, hanging on the air between them. But before either of them could give it voice, Cor’s needle passed directly over the tender flesh above Gladio’s rib, and several things happened at once. 

First, Cor pulled back with expert reflexes, anticipating the body beneath him to jerk in sudden pain. 

Second, Gladio’s face went deep red, and his hand shot out in search of something -  _ anything _ \- to clamp onto. It found purchase in the form of Prompto’s own hand in his lap.

Third, Prompto’s fingers curled around his as naturally as the pieces of a puzzle. As if they’d been  _ designed _ to lock together, a perfect fit that said more than a thousand unspoken words. 

And they stayed that way, neither one speaking, neither one letting go. Even after the sharp pain had subsided; even once Gladio had relaxed enough for Cor to continue; their hands remained comfortably clasped in Prompto’s lap.  

The session eventually came to an end. Prompto smiled as, fingers still twined, he helped Gladio into a sitting position and toweled off his wounds. Leaned into him more than was absolutely necessary, and let his chin come to rest against the warmth of his shoulder. “You feeling better?” 

(Neither noticed Cor choose that exact moment to strip off his gloves and make a beeline for  _ literally anywhere else _ .) 

“ _ Mm.  _ Thanks,” Gladio chuckled while that gentle touch traveled over his skin. “For the moral support.” 

Against his shoulder, he felt Prompto’s smile widen. “Sure thing, big guy. For the record, you’re, uh, still hella cool in my book.” 

“Cool enough to maybe get your number?” 

_ Gods,  _ he loved the way those freckles popped whenever Prompto blushed. “Oh. Um, definitely. You mean, for, like, an appointment, or, like…?”

“Like, to call you sometime. Ask you out.”

“R-right. Yeah. Totally.” 

“On a date,” Gladio confirmed, and laughed as the blond buried his bright-red face in the side of his neck out of sheer embarrassment. A muffled _ yeah, okay _ was followed by more laughter, and for several moments Gladio knew nothing but the feel of Prompto in his arms as he pulled him into a hug. Soft, warm, even more so than he’d imagined. Gentle, too, the blond’s own arms weaving around his shoulders carefully to avoid fresh ink. 

_ Perfect. Too perfect.  _ Forget the phone number - he’d waited long enough. This was worth doing right here, right now, before another second could go to waste. 

“So, how about this weekend? There’s a club called  _ The Garage _ a few blocks from here. My band’s playing tomorrow night, and I’d love for you to come.” 

Slowly, Prompto disentangled himself from Gladio’s body. Pulled back to stare at him with eyes as big as dinner plates and his mouth open in sheer disbelief. The words hung on the silver ball in the center of his tongue for a panicked moment before, without warning, he half-screamed, “ _ You’re in a BAND?!”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannndddd SURPRISE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> This was really a Band AU in disguise the WHOLE TIME! 8D  
> In the next chapter, Prompto goes to the show and falls way harder than he ever expected for the tall, dark, and handsome bassist ;) OH YEAH!


	2. Itch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto's got it _bad_ for Gladio, and he's pretty sure seeing his band play is just going to make it worse. How is he supposed to control himself when the hunk of his dreams is serenading him from the stage?
> 
> (Spoiler alert, he's not.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switched to Prompto POV for this chapter, to get a feel for how thirsty they _both_ are in this. 
> 
> Also, Noct's band (the Regalia lol) is based on Fair to Midland. I don't really know why, except that the idea hit me and refused to let go (and also I love Darroh's voice and feel like Noct would have a weird range like him) ANYWAY if you don't know who they are, check them out on YouTube. I recommend this one [Musical Chairs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hyBzAxBLASA) which is kinda what I imagine them playing in this scene. Minus the growling. I think ;)

Twenty-four hours had passed, and the shock had yet to wear off. Prompto still couldn't believe, even when he hopped off his bike in front of the  _ Garage  _ and saw the poster for the night’s headlining act, that Gladio was  _ actually _ in a band and had  _ actually _ invited him to a show.

Because really, how was it fair? Gladio was already the guy of his dreams - with those muscles and those eyes and  _ those tattoos _ \- but then he had to go and be a musician on top of it all? He was practically cheating. 

But the poster on the side of the building didn’t lie. The evidence was right there, in shades of black and grey: Gladio’s face, plastered next to a dark-haired, emo-looking kid and a guy who could probably pass for an eyewear model. Underneath that, in jagged, white font, was their band name,  _ Regalia _ , and the show list of their current local tour. 

Prompto chewed his lip. Yeah, he’d been invited, and  _ yeah _ , Gladio was one of the nicest guys he’d ever met. But he was beginning to think he might be in over his head. A guy like Gladio was  _ way  _ too far out of his league, probably had hordes of fans waiting, hoping for a chance to get close to him - and who was Prompto to interfere? Probably for the best if he just turned around right then and went home instead of--

“Hey! Yer that kid from the tattoo shop, ain’cha? Gladio’s lil’ friend?” The voice belonged to a tall, built, sandy blonde woman in a yellow bomber jacket. She flashed a smile as bright as headlights, catching Prompto off guard in the light. 

“U-um. Yeah, I guess that’s me?” he answered as he hastily pulled his hands out of his pockets. 

The women raised an eyebrow. “You  _ guess _ ? Well, I can’t go around givin’ free tickets to just  _ anyone. _ ”

_ Free ticket?  _ The look on his face must have belied his confusion, because the woman was suddenly pushing a slip of paper into his hands and grinning. “If you  _ are  _ Prompto, then this is fer you. Compliments of th’house - and one very smitten bassist.” She left him like that, clasping the ticket and flushed bright red outside of the venue, and with no choice left but to follow after her through the front door. 

Inside, the  _ Garage _ was already bustling with activity. Prompto eased his way past the line of patrons at the ticket counter, then through the crowd gathered at the bar. The woman he'd met outside was there, too, he noticed, taking orders and pouring drinks like she owned the place. And for all Prompto knew, maybe she did. But he didn't stop to ask, or even to order a soda, because at that moment it came into view -  _ the stage.  _

Gladio wasn't there, not yet; but the instruments were. Two mics stood near the front and center, flanked on either side by large speakers facing out toward the room. Behind them, a pair of electric guitars, both matte black and covered in worn, faded stickers from body to neck. Toward the rear, just under the banner that read  _ Regalia _ in messy font, was the complicated drum set; and to the left of that was a thick-stringed bass. That one caught Prompto’s eye immediately, most of all because of the black silhouette of an eagle painted along the edge of the white body. A recurring theme, it seemed, in Gladio’s style. 

There was a group of young women grouped together in front of the stage, so Prompto grabbed a spot by the wall as close to Gladio’s side as he could. Anxiously, he kept his eyes moving between his phone screen (a game of King’s Knight to pass the time) and the dark curtains that led backstage. He wasn't sure when the band members would be coming out, but he was curious to see  _ this _ side of Gladio. What would he wear? Would his hair be loose, like he usually wore it to the studio, or would he style it for the gig? Prompto couldn't imagine him in anything but his running wear - sweatpants and a hoodie - and he was equal parts excited to catch a glimpse and too nervous to stand still. 

Three rounds of his game later and at last the lights in the club began to dim. The constant buzzing of voices and background music that had filled the air until then grew quiet, and patrons made their way from the bar to nearer to the stage. Even Prompto picked up on the shift in mood, pocketing his phone and standing up a little straighter as he locked his eyes on the curtains once more. 

Some rustling. An excited murmur built up through the crowd. The curtain moved, and a man appeared suddenly under the bright lights of the stage. Prompto recognized him from the poster: tall, lean, with pouty lips and glasses that sat elegantly on his high cheekbones. He nodded his head at the audience - who burst instantly into cheers and applause - but moved with singular purpose to take his seat at the drums. Effortlessly, he spun a pair of drumsticks in the air to the sound of more cheering, then started up a rhythmic beat to warm up his set. 

It was to that beat that the curtain began to rustle again. Prompto’s breath stilled, anticipation getting the better of him, and unthinking he drifted forward to get a better view. 

And he was glad for it. Gladio emerged into the flood of the stage lights, his hair a dark mane in contrast to his naked upper body. Every chiseled edge, every well-defined muscle of his chest, his shoulders, his abs was bare and on display beneath the fresh lines of his tattoo. Prompto’s breath left him at the sight. He’d seen Gladio shirtless before, of course, but back in the shop he tried to take a clinical approach to the fact that he was blazing hot. It was his  _ job _ , after all, to wrap and clean him after each session. Yet while he’d enjoyed a certain guilty pleasure in his work, the sight of Gladio’s half-naked body had never made him feel quite this light-headed before. 

Cheers were going up around him. On the stage, Gladio flashed the audience one of his unfairly attractive grins before moving into position. As Prompto predicted, he went right for the bass with the eagle design, slinging the strap over his shoulder and propping the body of the guitar up on one massive, black leather-clad thigh. Prompto was so focused on watching him finger the strings (was it possible to be jealous of an instrument?) that he almost missed the arrival of the final - and apparently most popular - member of the band. 

He, too, had been on the poster outside the club; young, pale, with deep violet eyes behind a veil of messy, black bangs. Unlike the other two, he acknowledged neither the crowd nor the cacophony of cheers that rose up to meet him. With an almost bored expression he snagged a guitar and stepped up to the mic, and at his sudden and unspoken cue the show roared to life. 

The music was  _ loud _ . It was full of energy, the drums leading a constant, fast-paced rhythm which Gladio countered with a rough but steady bass line. It swept the crowd up and got them moving as one - heads and bodies and arms swinging along with the beat, until even Prompto couldn’t resist the hypnotic pull of the song. He found himself drawn closer and closer toward the stage, toward the singer’s haunting voice, and the image of Gladio sweating and swaying and pouring himself into his art. 

One song flowed into the next, the energy ebbed and flowed with the beat. Prompto forgot all else but the music, the performance, the atmosphere in the room. All but  _ Gladio _ , who - even more than the rhythm - had the blond’s heart pounding, his fingers twitching at his sides with the need to be closer.  _ Shit,  _ he had it bad and he knew it. Knew there was no way out of this now that Gladio had gotten so deep under his skin. 

On stage, amber eyes slid open. Scanned the faces beyond the lights and zeroed in on the one tuft of blond amidst the sea of shadows. 

Gladio smiled.

Yeah. Prompto was  _ so fucked.  _

* * *

He should have expected Gladio would find him after the show. Should have guessed that the moment the last song ended, and the vocalist disappeared behind the curtains again with the drummer in tow, that Gladio would take the front stage exit instead. Hopping down into the midst of the crowd, vanishing for a moment in a sea of excited fans, only to reemerge on the other side and so much closer. 

Prompto also should have seen the arm coming before it was around his shoulders, but that, too, took him by surprise all the same. 

"Thanks for coming tonight," Gladio said, breathless. Despite being only inches from Prompto’s ear, he had to practically shout to be heard over the crowd. "I was worried you might change your mind."

Blue eyes blinked wide, and the blond shook his head. In the thick air of the room, Gladio’s arm around him was impossibly warm, making it difficult to think about much else. "N-no way, wouldn't miss it, dude." 

Was it his imagination, or did Gladio just pull him closer? 

"Yeah? So, what’d ya think of the show?" He sounded...hopeful. Excited.  _ Nervous _ . Prompto risked a glance up to find his thick eyebrows knitted tight, and his lips stretched in a lopsided grin. So close. So fucking perfect, and how could Gladio not see that? Of  _ course _ the show was amazing, and so was he - right down to the curls of hair matted with sweat to the sides of his big dumb gorgeous face, and  _ what the hell did he expect Prompto to say?  _

_ It was great. _

_ I loved it.  _

_ I love you.  _

But the words stuck in his throat, thick with nerves, with the distraction of Gladio so close;  _ so close he could almost taste him _ , making his heart pound as fast as the beat of the drums. He couldn't think. Couldn't stop himself. Couldn't even hesitate as he pushed himself up onto the tips of his toes and smacked his lips into the taller man’s, hard and uncoordinated but it didn't matter. All the energy of the moment went into the kiss, until he was wrapping his arms hastily around tattooed shoulders and being lifted off the floor in turn. 

Gladio scooped both arms under him. With breathtaking strength the blond was pulled up against his chest, their mouths slotting together more easily in the closed distance, pale fingers finding purchase in the back of dark hair. Prompto shivered at the way Gladio’s tongue moved between his lips. Hurried, excited, caught up in the sudden thrill of the moment. Prompto’s head spun with it, left him dizzy and clinging to broad shoulders when, with a gasp, he was forced to break for air. 

They stared at one other for several long, drawn-out heartbeats. Slowly, Prompto was lowered back down to the floor, and he released his grip in favor of tugging his shirt back into place. With round, nervous eyes he watched the surprise on Gladio’s face melt into something warmer. Something soft, as he smiled, then grinned, then stroked his fingers along the rough edges of his jaw.

“Wow.” 

Prompto tasted him when he run his tongue out over his lips. “Yeah.” 

“You, uh. You’re good at that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Amber eyes were still fixed on him, moving subtly from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “I wouldn’t mind trying again, though. Y’know, just to be sure.” 

The laugh that left him was mostly air, but it made Gladio smile wider all the same. Relief flooded Prompto; left his stomach somersaulting and his cheeks flushed, and he relaxed against that solid chest. Yeah, he wanted to try that again, too. Wanted more of Gladio’s hands on him, more of his mouth, his voice, his heat. Shyly, he peered up from beneath rogue locks of blond. “Um, you remember those tattoos you asked about a few weeks ago? Well, I came up with a few designs.” 

“Oh?” 

He nodded, and let his eyes deliver the message between the lines. “I was hoping I could show you.” 

Gladio paused for a moment, blinking. Then, “Tonight?”

Another nod. 

“At your place?”

Prompto smiled. 

The knot of Gladio’s throat bobbed in understanding. “The...designs?”

“Um.” Thin shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Maybe?” 

That was all Gladio needed. He swooped in for another kiss, chaster but still enough to leave the blond’s lips tingling in his wake. “I gotta help the guys load up the car. Wait for me?” 

“Mmkay.” 

“ _ Prom. _ ” His eyes were dark, brilliant amber nearly swallowed up in the black of his pupils, and he appeared to physically struggle for a moment with the idea of walking away. A third kiss, and a fourth, until Prompto was laughing and burying his blushing face in the side of that rough-shaven jaw. 

“Gladio….”

Lips drew close enough to his ear to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. “I’ll be fast.”

He shivered at the promise. Watched Gladio jog off back through the crowd of fans, many of whom were turned and gaping at him, surprised or impressed or outright envious. Prompto flashed a nervous smile to the faces around him. Backpedaled over to the bar where the woman from before was waiting for him with a thumbs up and a glass of ice water. 

“Way t’go, sunshine!” she laughed in greeting as Prompto flopped bodily onto an open stool. “That was quite a stunt ya pulled.”

“I-I can’t believe I did that,” he admitted, and swallowed back half the glass in a single gulp. In the aftermath of it all, his throat had suddenly gone bone dry. 

“I reckon Gladdy ain’t complainin’. So, how’s it feel?” In response to Prompto’s confused expression, the woman’s blue eyes merely twinkled. “Y’know, to be datin’ a rockstar? Ya  _ did  _ know the boys just got signed on with Citadel Records, right?” 

The sip of water he’d been taking ended up half on the counter and half in his own lap, and Prompto’s eyes went as wide around as the rim of the glass. “ _ They did WHAT?!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Prompto just can't catch a break :') Count on a third chapter, this time with actual smut~


	3. Get Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio's been waiting for the chance to get Prompto all to himself. When it finally happens, neither of them dare to waste a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last! An update! And it's 5200 words of mostly smut :) 
> 
> If you're interested, there's also now [a side-story for CindyLu (Cindy/Luna)](http://lhugbereth.tumblr.com/post/176268602963/a-lil-bit-o-cindylu) taking place in this universe! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading~

Helping Noct and Iggy load up the car would have gone a lot faster had either of them actually bothered to show up.

Gladio really shouldn’t have been surprised. The two of them had been dating for as long as they’d had the band together, and they often disappeared in the excitement after a show. Noct would whisk Ignis off to a bathroom stall, or Iggy would pull Noct into a backstage changing room, and they wouldn’t be seen again until they’d both worked off some excess energy.

But this time, it should have been Gladio’s turn. At least, that’s what he thought as he tossed another speaker into the back of their equipment van. The longer he kept Prompto - _Prompto! -_ waiting back in the bar, the less confidence he had that the cute blond wouldn’t go home with someone else first. One look at those gorgeous blue eyes and _anyone_ would fall him, after all. Hell, maybe someone was in there flirting with Prom at that very moment - someone who wasn’t stuck loading up instruments all alone because his stupid bandmates couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

As soon as they got paid, the first thing Gladio was doing was hiring some roadies.

Eventually, he finished up. Ignis and Noct _still_ weren’t back, so he shot them each a text telling them not to wait up for him later. He toweled off and locked up the van, then headed back into the _Garage_ ready to offer up a dozen apologies for the delay.

None of them, it turned out, were necessary. The moment Prompto caught sight of him from the bar (it was easier now that the crowd had mostly dispersed), he was jumping down from his stool and practically running over to greet him.

“Cindy told me everything!” he said excitedly, bright blue eyes wide. “You guys got signed!”

Caught off-guard, Gladio could only nod. “Oh. Uh, yeah. Noct’s got connections with an agent at Citadel Records _,_ and she decided to give us a shot. No big deal, really.”

Prompto, apparently, disagreed. “It’s a _huge_ deal! Did you know Cor used to be in a band? Something weird, like, uh, _Accordion_ or _Apocalypse_ , or --”

“ _Accordo._ Yeah, uh, I know,” Gladio smiled, running his fingers back through his hair.

“Yeah, that’s it! Anyway, he’ll be so excited when he hears one of his clients is gonna be _famous_.” On reflex, and totally without thinking, Prompto reached forward to trace the tips of his fingers over Gladio’s chest piece. The beak of the eagle was still little more than an outline, but it looked good nonetheless. Even Gladio was proud of it - especially with the way Prompto’s eyes shone as they drank it in. “I can’t believe I got to be a part of rockstar history.”

Gladio laughed. Laid his hand atop the blond’s on his chest and held him there, freckled cheeks slowly tinting red beneath the dim lights of the club. “Still got a long way to go before I hit rockstar status. But maybe, y’know, you could stick around, keep bein’ a part of...this?”

He meant the tattoos. He meant the music. He meant anything and everything Prompto could imagine and more.

The blond blushed a shade darker at however he chose to interpret the words. The smile he’d been wearing stretched wider, and his fingers curled against Gladio’s chest. An answer, perhaps, followed by a question of his own. “Did you still wanna come over tonight?”

The unmistakable _yes_ came in the form of Gladio’s mouth on his.

* * *

  

“It’s not much, but. Well. Here we are.”

They were standing outside of Prompto’s apartment building, essentially an old tenement that had been patched up ages ago and left standing on the edge of downtown. Beyond the distant horizon of Insomnia’s outer walls, the sun was nearly set, and the sky was painted in delicate orange and pinks. The latter reflected the color of Prom’s cheeks in that moment as, shyly, he explained that he hadn’t cleaned since the last time his parents paid him a visit.

“I live with my little sister. I’m used to it,” Gladio grinned, intentionally leaving out that most of the mess at home was actually _his own_ and that Iris was the only one who ever bothered to tidy up anyway. But his answer seemed to relax a little of the tension in Prompto’s shoulders, which was the point, and then the blond was unlocking the door to let them both inside.

It was as small on the inside as it had appeared from the front. The door opened into a humble living room, complete with a loveseat (black pleather), a coffee table covered in magazines, sketchbooks, empty soda cans, and takeout boxes, and a stereo system against the far wall. Above that were countless posters - the longer Gladio focused on them, the more familiar faces jumped out - of some of Insomnia’s most famous heavy metal bands: The Glaives, DeathMog, 10,000 Needles, and even The Call of MalBoro. A few of those, he noticed, had been autographed in scrawling silver ink.

While Prompto scooped up the boxes and cans that littered the table, Gladio took a few moments to admire the collection. “I didn’t realize you were so big into music,” he said, smiling, and glanced back to cast the blond a look over his shoulder. “Looks like you even got to meet Nyx Ulric. I’m jealous.”

Freckled cheeks brightened even in the apartment’s dim light. “A-actually, Cor got that for me last year. I’ve never been to a Glaives concert, they’re always sold out.” Hastily, he dumped his armful of garbage into a half-empty trash bag, and dusted off his shirt. “Do you like them?”

“Sure, I’ve been to a couple shows.” _Make that at least a dozen,_ Gladio winced mentally. His father got free tickets to just about every concert performed in the city, probably a perk of being both a legendary guitarist and best friends with the Regis Caelum, the King of Rock himself. Usually, attending felt like a chore, but now…. “Maybe I can snag a seat for you next time I go.”

The offer had Prompto beaming, his smile so bright it was staggering as he rounded the table and closed in. “Wow! You’d do that for me? I mean, I’ll pay, of course, but —“

“Don’t worry about it.” Large hands welcomed thin shoulders in an embrace. “My treat.”

He could practically feel Prompto’s face burning, especially as the blond leaned into him. Soft skin brushed his jaw, and eyelashes kissed the side of his neck as Prom closed his eyes. “ _Gladio_.”

The word was a question. A timid request that took them back to the warmth and energy of the _Garage_ , where they had felt like the only two people in a crowded room. Now they really were alone, however, and the attraction, the _need_ that had blossomed between them was free to grow.

It started with a kiss. Silent, wordless, as Gladio turned his face to the side and met Prompto’s lips. Slow, soft, hands exploring every curve, every edge, drawing each other closer in time with their quickening heartbeats. Eager and determined not to miss a second of this moment they had both wanted for so long.

Prompto, shorter by at least a head, found himself swallowed up in Gladio’s arms within moments. They wrapped around him, strong and familiar, lifted him up onto his toes; hugged him until his body felt on fire and his lungs burned with the kiss. Still, he didn’t pull away, _couldn’t_ because every fiber of his being wanted, no, _needed_ this more desperately than air. When he kissed Gladio, all the weeks and months of waiting, of not knowing, of hoping, were poured into the act. His tongue claimed Gladio’s mouth, drank in the tastes that left him reeling, dizzy, breathless. Intoxicated.

Until, at last, it was Gladio who was forced to break for air.

“ _Prom...gods.”_ Amber eyes, nearly black in the shadows of the room, struggled for focus. “I, uh. I got something to say.”

The blond swallowed down a breath. “Y-yeah?”

“I have never wanted anything as bad as I wanna fuck you.”

 _O-ohh_.

“If you don’t stop me right now,” he added in a voice like whiskey melting Prompto from the inside out. “I’m not gonna let you go. I’m taking you to bed and we’re not gonna quit ‘til morning. We’re gonna get _wild.”_

“ _Yeah.”_

“We’re gonna get _hot_.”

_“Gladio....”_

Large fingers stroked back through blond locks. Clamped at the base and tugged Prompto’s head back, just out of reach of his mouth. “We’re gonna get _rough.”_

 _There._ The pupils of those heavenly blue eyes blew out wide, and he felt Prom shudder against him. His lips trembled as he tried to respond, all the while his gaze never leaving Gladio’s face. “Y...yes. Please. I want…. _I want everything._ ”

So, he’d guessed right. Heat boiled in Gladio’s own gut as, once more closing his mouth over Prompto’s, he lifted him off the ground. Held him tight until surprisingly strong thighs gripped around him, and then they were moving, blindly but steadily, through the small apartment to the bedroom at the back.

* * *

 

The taste of metal sent ripples of pleasure pulsing down his spine.

He’d noticed it when they’d first kissed, too. The ball of steel piercing Prompto’s tongue was unmistakable, a focal point of exploration inside his mouth, urging Gladio to delve ever deeper into him. Playing, toying with the contrast of soft and slick, hard and cool, and loving every little whimper that teasing the thing pulled from Prom’s throat.

But he hadn’t stopped there. How could he, when the sweet, breathless blond beneath him still had so much to offer. So he’d replaced his own tongue with his thumb between Prompto’s lips, and left him mewling around it as he moved on to the line of metal in each of his ears. And _gods_ was he sensitive! Each heated breath that blew over his skin, every flick of tongue against the piercings had Prom shivering, shuddering, digging his nails into the sheets. Experimentally, Gladio plunged his tongue into the shell of the blond’s ear, and moaned in sympathy when those lean hips rocked up against him.

“G-Gladio, _ah!_ ” Beneath a thin layer of denim, Prompto’s need was obvious. Hard and straining when he rubbed against the solid wall of Gladio’s strategically placed thigh - first by accident, then again and again in search of relief. “ _Mmm._ ”

“Feel good, baby?”

“ _Mm, yeah._ ”

“Let’s get these out of the way.”

Prom’s belt, like his jeans, clung tight to his thin frame. It was a good look, Gladio thought, and he, for one, had certainly appreciated the view back at the club. But here, in the kid’s bed and with his fingers already shaking from anticipation, both layers made for more of a hindrance than anything. By the time he got the buckle of the belt undone, Prom was giggling, and before he could finish the first button the blond was sitting up to give him a hand.

“One sec,” he purred, almost directly into Gladio’s ear as he slid off the edge of the mattress. It was all he could do to snap his jaw shut and watch.

Prompto was cute. Prompto was funny, and charming, and attractive in ways Gladio had never imagined possible until he’d met him. But in that moment, kiss-bruised lips pinched between a hint of teeth, blue eyes dark under heavy lids, and peeling off his jeans inch by inch to reveal more pale, freckled skin, Prompto was downright _sexy._

The fact that he very clearly hadn’t been wearing anything underneath those jeans didn’t hurt, either.

His shirt came off last, and with it the remainder of Gladio’s patience. He swung his own legs (still clad in black denim) over the side of the mattress and beckoned Prompto into his lap. “This all for me?” he grinned as he settled his hands on very naked, very tempting hips. Between them, the blond’s cock throbbed at the attention, already beginning to weep at the tip - which, unlike the rest of him, was unpierced. “So thoughtful.”

“You like it?” The question, though shy, served to widen the grin already stretching Gladio’s lips.

“I do. You gonna let me play with it?"

More smiling, more blushing. Prompto nodded his head and that was all the convincing either of them needed. Gladio went for his dick and his chest at the same time, curling hot fingers around one and even hotter lips around the bud of a pert, pierced nipple.

The combination was overwhelming. Prompto’s hands flew to Gladio’s freshly inked shoulders on instinct - then, thinking better of it, he drove them into dark brown locks instead. Tugged tight and bit back a moan as that unfairly skilled tongue played at every one of his weaknesses. "M- _mm!_ " He was afraid to look down. Afraid that if he _saw_ how good Gladio looked touching, licking, sucking him, he wouldn't be able to control himself for long. After all, those fingers around him were already so tight, making him lightheaded as he gasped in each breath.

Teeth clamped down on his nipple and Prompto cried out breathlessly. " _Ah! G-_ Gladio, _ohmygodohmy-_!"

It happened again, and at the same he felt the hand around him squeeze hard enough to make him see stars. "Fuck! Gla…! I can't, _oh, mmm!"_

" _Prom_." His name sounded like bass and smoke, deep as it rumbled through his chest. "You taste so fucking good."

" _Nh,_ I-!" He opened his eyes. Made the mistake of looking down and moaned to see those gorgeous amber pools gazing back up at him, Gladio’s tongue swirling again around one, silver hoop. He shivered and leaned into him, and felt his resolve crumble a little more with each beat of his heart.

But there was permission in those eyes as well. Gladio knew what he was doing, knew exactly how close Prompto’s leaking cock was to the edge, and he was _bringing him the rest of the way there._ Stroking him fast and tight, his gaze unblinking, as he encouraged the hesitant rhythm of his hips rocking in his lap. _Come for me_ , his eyes seemed to command. And now that Prompto had seen the power in them, he couldn't look away.

Orgasm hit him the second Gladio’s teeth found his other nipple. The pleasure overwhelmed him, left his head dropping back and his hips arching forward, as his cock erupted in the grip that held it. Hot, thick cum painted the planes of Gladio’s bare chest, his abs, seeping down into his lap, but still he didn't release him. Not until Prompto’s breathing evened out, and the fingers that tangled in his hair in a death grip relaxed enough to pry them away.

"Mm, you good, baby?" Slowly, blue eyes peered down at him from under heavy lids. Gladio grinned. "You look good to me."

"…Not fair, big guy. I thought you said we were going all night." When Prompto smiled, it was lopsided, a perfect flash of teeth behind swollen pink lips. But anything else he could have said was lost in a breathy gasp - for in that moment, Gladio pulled him down onto the bed, rolled him over, and pinned his hands to the pillow above his head.

"Didn't say we were done yet, beautiful."

He left his hands where Gladio put them, obeying the silent command in those amber eyes as the larger man once again pulled away. Not far, of course, just long enough to get his own jeans down around his thighs and to palm his cock through his boxers. An act that caught and _held_ Prompto’s attention - large, _thick,_ and even clothed he could imagine the sheer girth Gladio was packing there - and his throat went dry on sight.

"You, um," he choked out, flicking his tongue out in hunger. "You _are_ gonna let me play with that, right?"

Gladio smirked. Leaned down to nip at a soft-looking patch of skin above a series of star tattoos running along Prom’s ribcage, and let his humming laugh answer for him.

* * *

 

The room had spun once, and kept on spinning.

Prompto’s face was bright red, as heated as the hands traveling up the insides of his thighs. Beneath him, Gladio was seemingly focused on igniting every inch of his skin from top to bottom to top again with nothing but his eyes. Dark, heavily-lidded, drinking in his naked flesh, his tattoos, his cock once more hardening above washboard abs and _oh gods,_ how long was Gladio planning on torturing him like this?

“Prom.” That commanding voice rocked him back to the moment, blue eyes flying open to meet molten amber. “C’mere.” Gladio’s hand was so gentle against his cheek. His lips, full and parted, were the perfect invitation as he guided Prompto down, down against them. The blond breathed in deep, moaned at the mix of sweat and sex and energy that radiated off of bronze skin. And dug his fingers into his palms, hard enough to leave marks.

“Gladio, please….” More kisses, as distracting as they were frustrating. Gladio rolled his hips up again and the length of his  cock, condom and all, slid along the slick cleft of Prompto’s ass. Right over his hole, which ached with the emptiness Gladio’s thick fingers had left in their wake. He wanted, no, _needed_ Gladio inside him, to fill him up and stretch him wide. To set his body on fire from the inside out. He needed Gladio to fuck him - _really fuck him -_  not keep teasing him like this any longer.

With a telling whine, he rubbed his hips back against Gladio’s heat and let his eyes do the begging.

“ _Mm_ , you always this impatient?” came the half-grin. Large hands moved away from Prompto’s face, down over the curves of his arms to the spread of his thighs instead. Stroked them purposefully, rhythmically, until Prompto was humming against his lips and grinding down in turn. Again and again, his cock sliding between their bodies even as Gladio’s own dragged along his cleft. Large and slick, wet with both lube and precum, and as Prompto rocked faster the head caught tellingly at the rim of his opening.

“ _O-ooh, please!_ Gladio, I can’t wait anymore!”

“Guess that answers my question.” Prompto’s mouth remained open, and Gladio took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. Enjoyed the series of needy moans that flavored his kisses, growing louder as Gladio’s hands found and squeezed the mounds of his ass.  

" _Mmm! M-mm…!_ "

_Please! Gladdy!_

His hips were seized, pulled forward until Gladio could angle the head of his cock against his opening. Prompto felt his breath hitch. Tightened his fists until his nails were biting soft flesh, and did his best to relax. There was a dull pressure - Gladio slowly pushing in - followed by a stretch that forced the last of the air from his lungs in a gasp. More, more; Gladio was working his way past slicked yet straining muscles at an agonizing pace, and by the time he paused to catch his own breath, Prompto was seeing stars.

"…’m gonna move, baby." The warning earned him a shallow nod from the blond. Carefully, holding those quivering hips as steady as he could, he drew his dick back out of Prom’s body. Inch by inch, until the head was once again stretching him wide. Then, just as Prompto began to whine, he rammed back into him, pushing past tight walls and even deeper than before.

" _F…uck.… Gla…dio…!_ "

" _Gods_ , you're tight…!"

" _A-aah-mmmm!_ "

Suddenly Prompto was kissing him again, messy and uncoordinated in his desperation. His thin, freckled shoulders drew up, his fingers, though shaking, cupped Gladio’s face, and he kissed him as if trying to ground himself against the onslaught. It simply encouraged Gladio to take complete control.

He left his hands on Prompto’s ass; bent his knees as he drew his legs up, using them to leverage his own hips off the bed, and consequently Prom with them. Thrust up into clenching, wet heat until he could feel himself sinking deeper, deeper inside each time.

" _Fu…fuck, h-harder, nhh!_ "

Gladio squeezed Prompto’s ass beneath his palms and groaned with effort. " _Yeah_ , baby. Feels so…fuckin’ good."

" _Ah!_ " Dropping his head to Gladio’s shoulder, Prompto let his body take over where his mind was failing. Rocked back weakly to meet each one of those powerful thrusts - thrusts that were shooting stars through his vision, and testing the limits of both his balance and his sanity. He moaned, shuddered, tucked his face into the crook of Gladio’s neck, unable to keep up with the pace of it all.

The walls of the apartment were thin, but both of them found it increasingly difficult to control the volume of their rising voices. Gladio, growling as he flipped their positions, was losing himself fast to the perfect heat of the body around him. Prompto, locking his thighs around powerful hips, was already too far gone to care about the noise. All he wanted was more, _more,_ to know nothing but the way Gladio felt, tasted, sounded like this. _So hot, so good. He's amazing…._

" _Prom_." A heartbeat while Gladio’s face twisted again in pleasure. "I'm close. Damn close."

" _Mmm._ "

"Fuck I wanna…!" He cut off, overwhelmed by the ripples of climax starting to radiate out from his gut. " _Prom!_ "

" _Please._ "

Blue eyes were so pleading, so full of need that in the face of them Gladio’s hips stuttered. His heart throbbed wildly, and before the blond could protest he was pulling out of his ass entirely.

" _A-ahh! Gla… Wha-?"_

But he didn't have time to explain. Deft, calloused fingers reached down between their bodies, and within seconds Prompto heard the snap of the condom coming off. Gladio pumped himself once, twice. Groaned and threw his head back, the muscles in his neck tensing even before he could properly aim. Hot arcs of cum erupted from his fist to hit Prom’s thighs, his stomach, his own swollen cock, painting him in ropes of white.

Prompto was still watching the display when Gladio slumped, exhausted, back onto his calves. "Fuck," came the rough groan. " _Fuck,_ Prom…."

" _O-ooh."_

"Gimme…a sec."

But Prompto hardly heard him. His gaze was unfocused, but still torn between the mess decorating his lower half, and the sight of Gladio - _his Gladio -_ looking absolutely wrecked between his still-spread legs. It was…incredible. Every inch of his skin glistened with sweat, and the dark lines of his tattoo stood out more prominent than ever. His dark hair, usually so soft to the touch, was matted to his face at wild angles, rugged and powerful as the rest of him.

Prompto dragged in a deep breath, and reached down to grab his own cock.

" _Ha…._ Prom? Baby?"

"Gladdy, turn around."

"Hm?"

Though the request had been breathless, Prompto’s eyes were bright and clear. _Do it_ , they seemed to command and _shit_ , how could Gladio refuse him? So he worked his powerful, heavy limbs until he was kneeling with his back to the blond. Turned to glance over his shoulder at him, inadvertently flexing his muscles on the way. "What are you?"

" _Oh fuck, oh fuckohfuck!"_ He cried out in a half-moan, pale fingers flying over slick flesh. " _Gladdy, fuck!_ " Flushed, panting, he somehow still managed to keep his gaze locked on that broad, beautiful back; on the black ink and flowing lines that complimented every dip and curve. On the trim line of Gladio’s waist, and his unfairly perfect ass beneath it. " _Nnh!!_ "

His entire body arched up when he came, adding his own cum to the mix already painting his belly, before at last collapsing back into a gasping, boneless heap.

* * *

 

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Prompto announced from the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a shy smile. "You still awake?"

"Mostly. C’mere, hot stuff."

From the bed, Gladio flashed a grin and patted the fresh sheets at his side. He'd been sitting up against the pillows with his phone in his hand while Prompto showered, but now he set it aside in favor of wrapping his hands around the blond instead. "Was just replying to Noct."

Humming, Prompto settled down against his side, and accepted a kiss to the top of damp locks. " _Eheh._ He finally got your texts?"

"Yeah. A while ago, but…." He chuckled, his lips lingering near Prompto’s temple. "Guess we were busy."

A blush rose to tint freckled cheeks. After sleeping with the guy, Prompto realized he probably didn't need to be shy around Gladio anymore, but habits could be hard to break. So he cleared his throat and, as much to distract himself from his fluttering heart as to change the subject, pulled out a small book from under his arm.

Gladio hadn't noticed it before. He sat up a little straighter, interest piquing. "What's that?"

"Um. My sketchbook," Prompto smiled. "To show you those tattoo designs. I-if you still want to see them, of course."

A laugh. "Oh, right. I almost forgot,babe."

Prompto feigned offense. " _Forgot?_ But this is the whole reason I invited you over."

"You are a terrible liar." Anything he could have said in his defense was swallowed up by Gladio’s lips closing once more over his. Warm, soothing, and so damn distracting that Prompto barely noticed his sketchbook being slid out of his grasp. "And of course I want to see them."

It took a few blinks before Prompto found his voice again. But once he had, and once he got his book open across their laps, he was chattering a mile a minute about the sketches inside. There were tons of them, different birds in different poses, stylized characters in ancient Solheim that Prompto said symbolized "heart" and "passion." Even some larger body pieces which, the closer Gladio looked, appeared to be intricate collages of all the things Prom knew he liked.

"These are amazing. How’d you come up with these designs?"

Blue eyes swam at the praise. "You really think they're okay? I-I mean, I used a lot of references, and I wasn't sure what you'd like so I just…kept drawing more and…."

"Would you do one of these for me?"

"Wh…what? Like, really?"

Gladio smiled.

"I-I definitely can't, not yet anyway. I'm just an apprentice, I don't have a license or the training to do anything _that_ complicated."

"That's okay. When you're ready, then. I want my next tattoo from _you._ "

Prompto snapped his mouth shut, and turned bright, burning red. "B-but that could take _years_ , and…."

"I told you before." As he spoke, Gladio wrapped his fingers around Prom’s palm. Drew his knuckles up to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. "I really am hoping you'll stick around. With me. Y’know, like this."

"I…y-yeah. I want that, too." Then, as if catching himself, Prompto blinked the mist out of his eyes and frowned. "But you've got the band. And once you guys sign, you'll be a really big deal."

"So?"

"And you'll have so many fans, everyone is gonna want you. I mean, they already do, but like, there's no way I can compete with _all_ of them, and…."

"Prom, stop." Amber eyes centered on him, cutting him off before he could say another word. "Yeah, we're gonna sign, and yeah, Noct wants to take this thing to the top. He's got dreams, we all do. But we're in this for the music, that's it. Our band’s got nothing to do with _you and me._ "

Prompto managed a grin. "Now you sound like Cor. He's always so serious when he talks about the old days. Like _they_ never partied, or had groupies, or tons of hot fans who wanted to sleep with them."

"They did." The casualness with which he says so has Prompto lifting a brow in response. "I've heard all about it, trust me. They had plenty of fans, but even my dad only fell in love with one of them."

There was a long, tense pause. "Did you say…your _dad?"_

Another shrug. "Yeah. He and Cor were in _Accordo_ together. He never told you that?"

Thousands of thoughts raced through Prompto’s mind in that moment. Stories he'd heard of sold-out venues and platinum records, of tours that had taken the group around the world more times than they could count. Stories that had seemed impossible because Cor was _Cor,_ owner of the _Crownguard_ and a grim-faced tattoo artist, not a glitzy rock star like the guys in Prompto’s posters. And yet…to hear Gladio say it now.…

" _Amicitia_. I think he has mentioned that name before."

"His first name’s Clarus. Maybe you’ve heard of the Shield?"

"The Shield?! The legendary bassist who plays for Regis Caelum, the _actual_ King of Rock?!"

"Well, yeah. That's my dad."

His jaw dropped open so hard he could practically hear it unhinge.

"So trust me when I say this band stuff isn't gonna go to my head. I've already had enough of it growing up with him." Gladio snorted, but Prompto was still in too much shock to find much humor in it. Blue eyes raked over the broad, built, beautiful man beside him slowly, carefully, as if really seeing him for the first time.

"I'm not believing this," he breathed out eventually, catching Gladio’s attention from where it had shifted back to the sketches. "You're telling me I just had sex with _the_ son of _the_ Shield? Like, seriously?"

"Uhh, yeah. But talking about my dad when we're in bed together is kind of a mood killer, so…."

"Gladio, this is _huge!_ I've never even met anyone famous before!"

"What about Cor?"

"He totally doesn't count, dude."

A laugh as Gladio set Prom’s sketchbook aside in favor of dragging the blond into his lap instead. Trailed kisses up his squirming chest, over the curve of his throat to suck a possessive mark right there onto his neck. Pulled back to admire his work, before at last gazing up into gentle heat pooling in brilliant blue eyes. "By the way. Did I ever tell you Noct’s full name?"

A gulp, followed by a cautious shake of his head.

"Noctis," he grinned, making sure to enunciate each consonant. "Lucis." Prompto’s eyes were getting wider. " _Caelum._ "

The bomb dropped, and with it Prompto swooned so fast Gladio narrowly missed catching him before he hit the bed. He spent the rest of the night kissing Prompto through his shock - and then, once he'd recovered, fielding questions about what it was like to know (and live with) some of the biggest names in the history of music. Not that Gladio minded, really. Prompto was cute when he was excited, of course, and anyway, he’d not-so-secretly been hoping for an excuse to stay that night.

In fact, as he curled up behind the blond in his narrow but sturdy bed, and buried his face in soft hair and even softer skin, he thought that without a doubt this had turned out to be the luckiest night of his life.

So far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments C: 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://lhugbereth.tumblr.com)


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